Two years ago in Wuxing, snow three feet deep,
For ten days on the streets, no footprints to keep.
Southern peaks coiled like jade dragons, row on row,
Taihu's vast expanse melted to silver's glow.
A pedant froze to death, just chanting his verse,
Men groaned, women sighed, bare walls made matters worse.
Last year, strong neighbors eyed the Huai and Fei streams,
Iron horses in herds came from northern frontier dreams.
Generals received axes, held carved halberds high,
Snow filled bow-cases as they faced the fierce enemy nigh.
Victory reports at night to Ganquan Palace sped,
Jade-bowed horns and bows from heaven were bestowed and spread.
Already we saw piled armor like Bear's Ears tall,
Soon felt the war-wash narrow Heaven's River's sprawl.
This year, year's end finds me in Dong'ou's domain,
Where southern climes meet, little frost or snow remain.
Plum tips and willow eyes leak spring's early trace,
Bamboo shoots and orchid buds rush to show their face.
Deep winter passes without ice or frost in sight,
No use for padded robes, much less for fox-fur's light.
Morning comes with north winds splitting stones with might,
Sea mists and mountain hazes blur the peaks in green and white.
I dream of auspicious flakes dancing in layered skies,
Cut and shaped without the Creator's enterprise.
A full year's harvest, we're grateful for the sovereign's grace,
A thousand homes, plagues vanish without a trace.
The Yangtze's reaches, near and far, need to unfold,
I fear strong sun may leave no wheat in the field to hold.
In vain I don my crane-feather cloak, dream of Hare Garden old,
Send swiftly blessed snowflakes to comfort the northern guest in the cold.